


He Wants To Say

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [57]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 10:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: The whole point of hiding in closets is not to get caught.





	He Wants To Say

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Spies and Secret Agents. Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/prompts).

“Bond,” Q hisses, on the edge of hysteria, “get us out of here. Now.”

James tightens his arm around the man and digs his chin into Q’s shoulder. “Shhh,” he whispers. “I will. But we can’t leave just yet. The whole point of hiding in closets is not to get caught, hmm?”

In the room beyond, there’s a rustle, the tread of unfamiliar feet, and Bond can feel Q tense even further, a violin string stretched to its limit. He wants to say, I told you so; he wants to say, what part of stay the hell out of this did you not understand? He wants to say, I don’t want you to break, don’t want to be responsible for you getting broken, I dread the sight of someone else’s hands on your body.

But he can’t say any of that, for a whole host of reasons. Number one being the men calling to each other in Russian on the other side of the door.

 _The building has been swept?_ one says.

 _Yes. No insects_ , another says.

A satisfied grunt, a scrape of a chair. _Good. Go downstairs and wait for her._

_And if she asks about the spy?_

The first man hesitates. _The truth, more or less. But perhaps leave out the part where we lost him_.

Q makes a noise, a tight, choked cough, and Bond slaps a hand over his mouth, holds him very, very still. Q's trembling now, the tension in his body giving way to hot water in his knees, hips that feel like they’ve gone jelly. Bond tucks his lips against Q’s neck and hums very softly, pets at his chest, his fingers dragging through scratchy wool. Tries to say without saying, It’s ok. I’m here. Be still.

Of all the ways that Bond’s imagined it, having Q tucked up close, having Q’s mouth moving under his hand, being trapped in a broom closet in an abandoned building in Sevastopol with an oligarch’s thugs less than 20 centimeters away was not one.

He hums again, nuzzles the frail skin beneath Q’s ear, and this time, Q relaxes a little, just a touch, just enough so that James is less concerned that he’ll combust any moment, that Q will let his fear get the better of him and cock up the day. They’ve been working on this mission for three months; they can’t let it go to shit now, even if Bond feels like a boy caught with his pants down. Pavakov’s squad had surprised them, showing up with no warning at this safehouse they hadn’t used in months, and it was either zip Q into the nearest closet or watch him get shot and that was simply not going to happen on Bond’s watch. It was not.

Never mind that the close quarters were rousing his basest instincts, that there was part of him, personal safety be damned, that ached to take advantage; to peel up Q’s ridiculous sweater and stroke the fevered skin below, to lick the sweat from that pale, slender neck and bite gently at his shoulder under Q bucked and swore and begged for Bond to kiss him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Silence Is Wiser](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981696) by [Crowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl)




End file.
